


Motel California

by RainbowRandomness



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s3e5, Episode: s3e6, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 00:10:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowRandomness/pseuds/RainbowRandomness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles walks into his motel room to find someone waiting for him. Someone who should be dead, but he is so glad he isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motel California

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by these gifs: http://teenwolf.tumblr.com/post/54773676137/whispers-into-the-wind-motel-california#notes

It's late when Stiles finally gets back to his motel room, his limbs exhausted and his eyes tired as they struggle to stay open and focus on what is in front of him. He leans against the corridor wall, closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath before continuing towards his room.  
  
He and Scott are meant to be sharing a room but since Allison swooped in to save him earlier on the bus, stitching him up and driving him to the motel, she has managed to get him to stay in her and Lydia's room instead of coming and staying with Stiles. Not that Lydia cared, since she easily managed to book herself the best room available in the motel for her to stay in and as if Scott was going to say no to Allison anyway.  
  
Sighing, he jams the keys from the receptionist into the lock and falls against the door as it opens, allowing him to stumble into the room head first and almost crack open his skull on the floor before he regains his balance and he's simply muttering horrific language at the floor.  
  
He kicks the door shut, sighing again and closing his eyes briefly as he runs a hand through his hair, tugging slightly. It feels weird not running his fingers over his fuzzy buzz cut and instead being able to run his fingers through the fluffy tuff of hair that he managed to grow over the summer.  
  
Opening his eyes again, he tried (and failed) to contain a yelp upon seeing the bloody and bruised, shirtless figure sitting on his bed, his head bent and hands clutching the edge of the mattress as he leaned forward.  
  
Stiles watched him in confusion and disbelief as he raised his head to meet Stiles' eyes, his expression both vulnerable and guarded, as if he were afraid and unsure of his chosen actions, as if Stiles might turn him away.  
  
"Derek?"  
  
He doesn't answer, just continues to stare at Stiles, watching him closely. He isn't glaring and his skin is torn from his right shoulder, and down over his side and across his stomach. The gaping wound is red and blotchy, oozing drops of dark blood whenever Derek shifts slightly and Stiles cringes at how painful it all looks as more blood drips down over Derek's bicep.  
  
"I hope that isn't infected," he says, for lack of anything better to say. He doesn't know how to react to his current situation; he's angry that Derek didn't come find him sooner, didn't come and let him and the pack know that he was alive, even if he was torn like a teddy bear after being handled too roughly by a child.  
  
But he's so relieved that he's alive; he's here, breathing, staring at Stiles instead of being somewhere dark and alone, bleeding out from the force of a fight with an alpha pack and falling down to his almost literal death to land on some dirty escalators.  
  
Stiles feels like he might cry from the overwhelming emotions battling it out inside of him but Derek is still wounded and bleeding and he isn't healing and Stiles has no idea what to do.  
  
Derek must sense his distress, hell, he must be able to smell all of the mixed emotions Stiles is feeling, they must be rolling off him in waves and hitting Derek right in the face.  
  
He rings his hands, nervously playing with his fingers as he bites his lower lip and wonders what to do. He would like to stitch up the gaping wound running over Derek's person but he's pretty sure he isn't qualified to do that and he's sure Derek would not let him try anyway.  
  
"I... I don't know what to do," Stiles say, laughing nervously as Derek continues to stare at him. It's slightly unnerving, having those ever changing eyes watch him, waiting for him to make a move. He gulps, glances down at his rung hands before looking back up at Derek and asking, "Are you healing?"  
  
Derek looks away then, glaring at the floor at his feet as he replies, "Slowly. Just... very slowly."  
  
Stiles is still at a loss at what to do; he worries away at his lip, trying to think through his options on what his next move should be but all he can manage is a gentle whisper.  
  
"You're not dead."  
  
Derek meets his gaze then, silent for a moment before he nods and Stiles moves forward hesitantly, reaches out a hand to trace along Derek's jaw, his stubble rough beneath Stiles' fingertips. Derek stiffens for a moment, holds himself still while Stiles allows his fingers to reach up and tangle in the werewolf’s hair and he lets out a shaky breath, one he didn't know he had been holding, and suddenly he's kneeling in front of Derek, positioned between his parted legs, and running his fingers through his thick hair, over his cheeks, his lips, brushing lightly over his shoulders and making sure not to touch the still open wound.  
  
He knows he must seem stupid but he feels like he has to check, like he has to make sure Derek is real and not his mind playing tricks on him. He's sure Derek is currently sat in front of him, eyes half lidded and gazing at Stiles with something Stiles can't quite place but his fingers still run along his skin, feeling the heat radiate from him as his breath brushes against Stiles’ face.  
  
His hands finally come to rest on Derek's cheeks, cradling his face in his hands and he's sure he might cry but he can't help himself when, "I was so worried," slips from his lips. Derek's eyes widen slightly in surprise and wonder before his arms are suddenly around Stiles, pulling him in and pinning him against Derek's chest.  
  
Stiles feels like the breath was knocked out of him from the sudden impact of their chests connecting, but Derek's arms are holding him firmly, one gripping his waist and the other gripping his shoulder as he buries his face in the crook of Stiles' neck, drawing in a deep breath. Stiles figures he must be scenting him but he's not paying attention because he is holding Derek just as tightly, burying his face into his neck and being careful not to irritate the gashes upon Derek's skin.  
  
"Doesn't this hurt?" Stiles manages to mumble into Derek's skin but the wolf just dismisses him as he grunts, "I don't care."  
  
He's sure some blood is going to soak through into his shirt but right now Stiles doesn't care either; he just holds Derek tighter, tries to bat away the tears because he's _alive_ and Stiles still doesn't know how to react to all of this but it's ok, Derek is ok (well, for the most part).  
  
"Stiles."  
  
It's muffled against the crook of his neck, a hot puff of air against his skin and he shivers before murmuring, "Yeah?"  
  
Derek pulls away slightly to get a clearer view of Stiles' face; his eyes are half lidded, cheeks dusted pink and Derek reaches up to cup the teens chin with his fingers. Stiles looks confused for a moment but Derek brings him forward, hesitates a beat as his lips hover over the others before he kisses him.  
  
Stiles' lips are soft and full and slightly chapped in comparison to Derek's, which are smooth and warm, his stubble grazing Stiles' cheek and making him shiver. His hands are slipping up from around Derek's neck and his back into his hair, tugging at the dark strands to pull him closer, his mouth opening in invitation. Derek can't resist as he slips his tongue into the teens mouth, licking playfully at his tongue and languishing in the whimpered moan that rips from Stiles in return.  
  
He's tugging at Derek's hair, pressing close and letting embarrassing noises slip from his lips but he doesn't care anymore as Derek licks into his mouth and draws him nearer, swallowing the noises as he groans back.  
  
Stiles presses too close, both of them falling back onto the bed and Stiles takes the chance to take in a gulp of air before he's kissing Derek again, his plaid over-shirt being pulled from his shoulders and thrown across the room and his shirt soon follows until his bare cheat is flush against Derek's and he can feel how the cut has been healing, has begun to fully seal up, against his stomach and he's rutting up into Derek's personal space, panting heavily.  
  
"Stiles," it's a groan, a plead, a warning and Stiles is chasing after it with his mouth as he unbuckles both of their belts and unzippes their trousers, pulling them both out of their trousers. He groans when their cocks touch, breaks away from Derek long enough to swipe a line of spit up his hand as he reaches back down to grasp both of them together and stroke.  
  
They're hot and heavy in his hand, Derek's cock slightly thicker than his own, and Derek is groaning beneath him, bucking up into Stiles' hand as her jerks them off. He's seen this done in porn, has fantasized about doing this with someone and now here he is, wanking with Derek Hale.  
  
Their movements are desperate, erratic, their kisses just as much as they lick into each other's mouths and bite at each other’s lips; Derek kisses and bites along Stiles' jaw, leaving little red blemishes in his wake as he grips Stiles' arms tight as he jerks them off.  
  
For a moment he falters as he shifts, crawling up from the edge of the bed so he is in Derek's lap, seating himself comfortably as he resumes his previous desperate pace, grinding down as he uses their pre-come to slick his hand as he squeezes around their heads, both of them moaning as they edge closer to their orgasms.  
  
Derek reaches up, wrapping a hand around the back of Stiles' neck as he draws him back down to mash their lips together, teeth knocking slightly before their tongues meet and moans are mixed with the sound of their panting breathes.  
  
Stiles is the first to come as he cries out and coats his fingers and their stomachs with his come, Derek soon following suit as he bucks up into Stiles' hand again and grunts, joining his load with the mess Stiles had already made on their bodies.  
  
They're breathing hard and Stiles' collapses on top of Derek, shutting his eyes as he ignores the feeling of their come rubbing into their skin between their melded bodies. He sighs and Derek squeezes the back of his neck, making him look up. Derek kisses him again, softer, more gentle, like Stiles is breakable, fragile, like he needs protecting.  
  
"Derek," his voice is horse, rough and Derek growls as he leaves yet another mark just beneath Stiles' jawline.  
  
"I missed you," he murmurs and Derek kisses him again as he murmurs back, "I... I missed you too."  
  
He's hesitant and Stiles leans back ever so slightly to see the terror in Derek's eyes that he's trying so hard to hide, "I thought I was going to die Stiles. I didn't know where to go and I wasn't healing and you-"  
  
He falters again, looking pained, and Stiles cuts him off with another kiss, deep and gentle all at once and Derek sighs into his mouth before bringing his arms up to slip around Stiles back, keeping him close.  
  
"It's ok Sourwolf," Stiles murmurs, cradling Derek's face in his hands and placing another chaste kiss to his lips, "You're home now."

**Author's Note:**

> This was written from midnight until 3AM because of some spoiler gifs from Teen Wolf's offical Tumblr page ahh.  
> Obviously the gifs show Derek in his apartment but when I saw them and the cation "Motel California", I just thought about Stiles walking into his motel room and finding Derek, so yeah.  
> I don't even know, ah, enjoy.


End file.
